kneading time for mama

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my garden in the friendly south

ahh…southern hospitality. It is alive and well you know. I have always been a firm believer that people are people anywhere you go. While yes, this is true, I have discovered that perhaps in this little pocket of the world, tucked in the deep south, they are just a little sweeter. A little more generous with their time. A little more easy-going. On the whole that is. I have most certainly not met even close to a number to do any worthwhile statistics, but I will say each and every neighbor, handy man (and sadly we have met many of those), mail lady, waitress, you name it, has been out right helpful, kind, and polite. No mind that I possess the evil Yankee gene, or that my accent is well…fake. I am such an actress though!

Today the septic guy had to make yet another stop at our residence (thank goodness we rent) and quite frankly he made my day as well as Miles. And not for the obvious either! With out hesitation that boy swung my little babe up into the seat, plopped him down on his lap, started the engine and proceeded to teach him exactly how that fascinating and life altering (honestly, in Miles mind I believe it may have been) piece of machinery works. He rode it for quite some time with a grand finale of guess what? Digging me a garden.

Oh the plans I have for this turned up space of earth. Carrots, beets, parsnips, sweet potatoes, lettuce and peas are among my list so far. Did I mention we have a pear tree? And a pecan tree as well? The crops will be plentiful this year. So I hope at least! Finally, to have the space in my own back yard to dig around in the sun. It feels simply glorious. I believe it will taste that way too.